The Greek's Nine-Month Redemption. Maisey Yates
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“That would be abandoning it altogether. What he built. What he’s trying to keep hold of, in spite of you. I won’t do that.”
“I do admire your dedication. Your loyalty.”
“Why do you admire my loyalty? You don’t possess any of your own.”
“We admire the things in others we struggle with ourselves, do we not?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t know. I certainly don’t admire anything in you.”
He chuckled, turning to face her, closing some of the distance between them. Her eyes widened and she backed against the wall. It reminded him a little bit too much of what had happened the last time they had been alone in an enclosed space together.
“I think there are a few things you admire about me,” he said, moving in a little bit closer. Her eyes widened, her pupils expanding, the green in her eyes reduced to a thin ring. Her mouth dropped open, soft and round, and begging to be kissed. To be explored. “You most certainly admire what I can do to your body. I think we both know that.”
“I do possess some restraint,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Do you?” he asked, his voice sounding rough, ragged even to his own ears. “Perhaps we should test it.”
He reached out and hit the stop button on the elevator, his stomach tightening, feeling as though a fist had closed around it.
He reached out and took hold of her arm, mimicking that day out by the pool.
“You want me,” he said. “Admit it.”
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